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John
Poems
Jan 2014
Cured
Sitting in my room
A ****** is the moon
I stare back at her
Gone when I wake at noon
She's always gone too soon
Who do you run to?
When you just want comfort
When you just want to be cured
I just want to be cured
I just want to be cured
Written by
John
28/M/New York
(28/M/New York)
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